


The Loyalty of Acquaintances and Lizards

by God_of_Doors



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Poison, Whump, descriptions of vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23169205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/God_of_Doors/pseuds/God_of_Doors
Summary: Bren is just a nobody Bosmer wandering Skyrim. He didn't ask to get caught up in the nonsense of some power-hungry mage and his brute of an accomplice. Thankfully, he's not completely alone in this world.Written for OC Whump WeekDay 4: Kidnapping and Day 5: Poison
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Kidnapping

Bren was aware that sleeping alone outside in unfamiliar areas was generally a bad idea, but in all fairness that was exactly why he’d chosen to tuck himself under a rocky outcropping in the hopes that no one would spot him. He should have just kept walking. If he’d just committed to making it all the way to Riften before stopping for the night, maybe he wouldn’t have been paralyzed, bound, gagged, blindfolded, and hauled off to gods-knew-where over the shoulder of some burly Nord who clearly hadn’t washed in… well, Bren didn’t want to know how long, considering how his face was currently smashed up against the man’s bare skin.

He hadn’t gotten a chance to see any of his captors; his eyes had been closed when he was hit with the paralysis spell, and by the time that was wearing off he had a blindfold securely over his eyes, tied tightly enough to give him a headache. Bren didn’t hesitate to let his transportation know exactly what he thought of his services, attempting to knee the man in the face when he thought the spell had worn off enough. Unfortunately he rather misjudged how much control he had over his own body, and only managed some sluggish squirming, which in turn only alerted the spellcaster that Bren needed another dose of Hold-The-Fuck-Still. He managed to have his eyes open this time, at least.

It was less than a minute before Bren learned that allowing his eyes to be paralyzed open was yet another thing to add to the list of bad ideas. They were burning and watering, but the tears were just overflowing and soaking into the blindfold instead of keeping his eyes comfortable. Bren was mostly pissed that he now looked like he’d been crying when he absolutely had not been, thank you very much, and began plotting his next attempt in earnest. He was considering just pissing down the man’s chest this time, but the sounds around him changed from those of a forest at night to some kind of interior, and he abandoned his plotting to listen for information.

He couldn’t figure much out from just listening; the men weren’t talking and the environment sounded like little more than a cave with wood flooring. Finally, one of them spoke.

“Yeah, just there is fine.”

Bren tried to brace himself, but the paralysis spell prevented any action he could have taken to brace his fall and he hit the ground with a painful thud. There were some footsteps, then his hands were forced above his head and locked into manacles. The blindfold and gag were finally removed, though Bren’s vision had gone so blurry that he couldn’t make out many details.

“Just give a holler when you can move again, little elf, and we’ll talk.”

Bren had no way to show his displeasure, so he hung there in a miserable heap of paralyzed Bosmer while his captors wandered off and shut the door. His first indication that the spell was wearing off was being able to blink again, praise the gods. Then he could move his eyes, and his tongue and mouth, and finally Bren managed to lift his head and take a look at his surroundings.

The room was generally unremarkable, aside from a shelf of potions, a small chest, and the manacles on the wall that he was currently locked into. While he struggled to hoist himself into a more comfortable position, a rustling noise caught his attention, and Bren glanced over just in time to see his travel pack fall over onto the floor from behind the chest. A spark of hope flared in his chest.

“Jizz!” he hissed. “You okay, little Jizzy?”

The bag moved a little more, and then a familiar lizard face popped out under the top flap. Bren grinned, but kept his voice at a whisper. “Hey, girl. Pretty girl. Come here, Jizzy.”

The lizard scampered over, casting a concerned glance over her guardian. She made a distressed little hissing noise and started chewing on the rope still wrapped around his feet. When she hadn’t made any progress after nearly a minute, Bren gently shifted his foot to nudge her off. His captors were likely aware that the spell had worn off by then and could be back any second, and he didn’t want them finding Jizz.

“There’s no time. Go get help, Jizz. Get out of here!” Bren looked at the doorway, then back to the worried little lizard. “Go!”

Jizz scurried halfway across the room before stopping and coming back, cocking her head to the side, but another frantically hissed “Go!” sent her moving back to the door again, where she squeezed her little body through the crack and out of Bren’s sight. Now, whatever happened to him, at least she had a chance to be safe.

Bren didn’t call out as he’d been instructed. Once he regained full muscle control he tried to test the strength of the manacles. Unfortunately they held fast no matter how much he thrashed, and curiously the noise he made didn’t seem to attract any attention. After a while Bren managed to find a position that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, though he did need to shift occasionally to ease the sore points. He sat there for what surely must have been a few hours at least. The two men that had dragged him in there were apparently not in the hurry he’d feared, but he saw it as a game now. Who would be the first to cave?

“Go make sure he’s not dead or something.” The irritated voice was just barely audible, but the approaching footsteps got louder very quickly. Bren held his head high for when the big burly Nord made it into the room, and locked eyes with him.

“The bastard’s fuckin’ awake and lookin’ like a smug little bitch!” he called back to his partner. More footsteps approached, and Bren finally got a proper look at the other man as he entered, a thin Breton in a black robe with an impressive amount of skin discoloration from repeated magicka overuse.

“Heh, he does look like a smug little bitch. We’ll see how long that lasts.” He picked up a potion from the shelf. “I need a test subject, and oh look, I just so happen to have discovered one sleeping under a rock.”

Bren growled and tugged again at his restraints despite knowing full well it wasn’t going to do him any good.

“Oh, aren’t you a feisty one? Good. Maybe you’ll last longer than the others.” The Breton uncorked the potion. “Thadrig, hold him please.”

Bren waited until the Nord’s hands were right at his head before he turned and bit down on his hand. Thadrig’s shriek of pain was a delight to hear, and almost made up for the taste in his mouth. Not for the first time, Bren was thankful for his natural resistance to disease. He was certain that any normal person was sure to catch something from the filth on this man’s skin. Thadrig ripped his hand free, and Bren spat blood and skin onto the ground.

Expletives fell from the Nord’s mouth, but instead of backing off he lunged forward with an enraged growl, forcing Bren into a headlock and clamping his wounded hand over Bren’s nose. Blood dripped freely onto Bren’s face while the mage stepped forward with the vial, ready for when Bren would finally have to open his mouth to breathe. Bren resisted as long as he could, but continuing to thrash in Thadrig’s grip was using a lot of energy, and he was desperate to breathe sooner than he would have liked. When he finally gave in to the burn in his lungs, the Breton was right there with the potion, forcing the whole bottle into Bren’s mouth so that the liquid hit the back of his tongue first and triggered his swallow reflex.

The sudden pounding of feet coming from somewhere outside the little torture room was nearly lost on Bren, consumed as he was by the sensation of lava sliding down his throat. From the corner of his eye he saw Jizz come scuttling in through the doorway as fast as Bren had ever seen her move, headed straight for his pack, still tipped onto its side behind the chest. Behind her bounded a Nord woman, sword drawn and ready, followed quickly by a man in full chitin armor who also had his sword out.

Bren’s head was suddenly released and he coughed and sputtered, riding out the fiery burn in his stomach to the sound of panicked shouting and Nordic battlecries.


	2. Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Signe belongs to VideoDame who graciously allowed me to borrow her for a bit. Poor Bren needed someone on his side.

Somewhere underneath the all encompassing burn, Bren was relieved beyond belief that he recognized the duo currently crashing the party. He’d traveled with them briefly when they all happened to be going in the same direction, though he barely remembered their names. He pondered the thought while his captors attempted to defend themselves against the rescue squad. Sylg… Siggy… Sidre… What the fuck was her name? Her companion, for some reason, he remembered immediately as Teldryn. Probably something about the way his voice had sounded when he’d said his own name. Bren would tap that in a second, and watching him and Nord-woman-starts-with-S cut down Nasty Nord and Mister Magic Fingers with practiced ease only served to further cement that thought in his head.

The woman didn’t spare much of a glance for the two men she’d just annihilated, instead turning her attention to Bren. “Are you alright?”

Bren regretfully shook his head, forcing the words past his throat. “Gave me something…fucking burns.”

Teldryn quickly found the remains of the potion bottle shattered on the ground in the shuffle and gingerly picked up a shard, tugging his face cover out of the way to give it a cursory sniff. “Nothing I recognize. Signe?”

Signe, that was her name! Bren twisted in his restraints and tucked his chin against his chest, groaning softly as his stomach cramped. Signe and Teldryn. He hoped they could figure this out.

“Signe, don’t lick it!”

Bren chuckled despite himself at the sound of Signe trying to spit the taste out of her mouth. “Nope, no idea,” she said between general sounds of disgust.

Teldryn heaved a sigh and stepped over to Bren, apparently having located the key to the manacles. He caught Bren before he could hit the ground and gently lifted him to his feet. “Can you walk?”

Bren took a shaky breath and nodded. “I think so. Fuck, I owe you two.”

“Don’t thank us, yet,” Signe commented from where she was digging through the chest against the wall. She stood, apparently not having found anything of worth. “You might still die from whatever they gave you.”

Bren swallowed, but managed a smile despite the continuing burn in his throat. Had they fed him fucking acid? “I’m a Bosmer; I’ll be fine.”

“Is this yours?” she asked, indicating his pack on the ground. He nodded and she picked it up, hoisting it onto her own shoulder. She looked at Teldryn. “We need to get out of here. This place is too big to be the base for just these two.”

“Agreed.”

Despite Bren’s protestations that he could walk, Teldryn kept a light grip on his bicep, and Bren made no physical efforts to remove that small amount of reassurance. He hadn’t realized how big the place was coming in, but having to walk out himself while feeling sick and shaky made it feel massive. “Wait, Jizz,” he said suddenly, turning to look for his lizard friend.

“I’m sorry?” Teldryn spluttered, and Bren smirked. He loved getting that reaction, and if he were feeling up to it, he might have tried to keep the joke going, but for the moment he just wanted some fresh air and a safe place to sit down and possibly vomit.

“My lizard. Her name is Jizzelle.”

Teldryn sputtered a bit more, but it was drowned out by the sound of Signe’s laughter. “Jizz is safe,” she wheezed, turning so that Bren could see Jizz’s face poking out from his pack. “She’s a clever little thing, running up to us and pacing around like she was worried. You owe her more than you owe us, probably.”

Bren sighed in relief and kept walking. “She’s a good girl. Gonna get all the bugs she wants tonight. Good girl, Jizz.”

“Fucking Jizz,” Teldryn chuckled under his breath.

They walked a bit more, and Bren was just starting to think they must surely be close to the exit when his stomach contracted without warning. He only barely managed to turn enough to not get any vomit on Teldryn, who valiantly did not back away, keeping one hand on Bren’s arm. Signe also came forward to wrap a steadying arm around his waist. When he was done, Bren waved away all the arms touching him, wiping his face on his other sleeve. He was going to need to wash everything after this anyway; he could still smell unwashed Nord all over himself. 

“Are we sure we don’t have any cure poison potions?” Teldryn asked queried, but Signe shook her head.

“I’m pretty sure we sold them all.”

“I’m gonna be okay,” he insisted, even as he shivered violently. “I eat all sort of weird shit. My body’s used to it.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Signe mused, but her eyes were shining with amusement.

Teldryn scoffed, and Bren sensed there was some unspoken conversation happening in the eye contact between them, but he neither understood nor cared to try. Air. He wanted air.

He dug his waterskin out of his pack, murmuring apologies to Jizz as he shifted her gently to the side. There wasn’t much left in it, but he’d take what he could get at that point. They kept moving for a while more, until they finally made it out into the blazing light of midday. Bren whimpered involuntarily as the light stabbed knives into his eyes. He felt feverish and weak and queasy, and rather regretted shooing everyone off of him. He blindly waved one hand around off to the side, and when he hit something that felt vaguely like a person, he pulled himself closer and pressed his face into the arm he’d found. From the feel of the armor against his skin, he’d located Signe.

“Can you..?” Signe’s question trailed off.

“Yeah,” Teldryn replied

There was a little shuffling, and suddenly Bren was being pulled up onto Signe’s back. He wrapped his legs around her hips and his arms around her shoulders, pressing his face into the bend between her neck and her shoulder. She supported him with her arms under his thighs. “Just let me know if you’re going to throw up again, please. I’d rather not have to clean vomit out of my braids.”

Bren made a small noise of affirmation, unwilling to face this kind of humiliation head-on, but also wildly grateful that he didn’t have to keep his eyes open or walk any further. At least this was better than being thrown over her shoulder like the sack of potatoes he’d been brought in as. Slightly cracking open one eye told him that Jizz was still safe in his pack now carried by Teldryn. The bouncing sway of Signe’s gait differed greatly from that of the Nord that had carried him to this place, and Bren tried to ignore the way it just irritated his stomach further until he remembered that was precisely what he’d been asked not to do.

“Signe, y’gotta put me down,” he whined, loosening his already weak grip in preparation for her to stop. When she retracted her grip on his thighs, Bren slid off her back, stumbled a few steps away, and fell to his hands and knees, vomiting bile into the grass. When he was done he wiped his mouth on his other sleeve, then took a moment to roll them up so that the residue wasn’t getting everywhere. This time he felt significantly better, if not exactly good. “I think it’s wearing off, actually,” he said, interrupting yet another telepathic conversation between the other two. Signe was visibly concerned, but Bren wondered how she could even tell what Teldryn was thinking behind his helmet.

“This is probably an alright place to stop for a bit,” Teldryn offered. “He’ll probably benefit more from sleeping it off here than suffering all the way to the city.”

Signe cocked her head to the side slightly. “I think there’s a stream nearby,” she said after a moment of listening. “He can get cleaned up, refill his water skin, maybe eat some lunch?” She directed the last question to Bren, who cringed slightly.

“Uh, maybe,” he hedged.

“Well, it’ll be there if you want it,” Signe offered. They walked the extra distance to the edge of the stream, where Signe kept an eye on Bren so he didn’t drown while Teldryn made a small fire to heat up some sort of a meal.

Clean, refreshed, and tired, Bren leaned against Signe’s shoulder where they sat. He’d eaten a few bites, but mostly he just wanted water and a nap. “I’m not really…going anywhere specific right now, so can I travel with you guys for a bit?” he asked quietly. There was just so much comfort here, with these two, so much safety, he didn’t want to set back out on his own quite yet.

“Sure, I’m alright with that,” Signe said with a gentle smile. She glanced at Teldryn, who shrugged. He’d taken his helmet off while they were stopped, and for once Bren could clearly read his face, which was thankfully one of passive agreement. Bren sighed, and with a comfortable lap full of lizard and Signe as a pillow, he let himself doze off.


End file.
